


One Evening in Oxford

by LadyAJ_13



Series: One Time in Oxfordshire [1]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Feminist Themes, Friendship, Gen, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 16:44:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: “This is ridiculous,” Morse says, uncomfortably aware of Trewlove's slim waist between his hands.“That a girl like me would be seen with a guy like you?” she asks with a twinkle, flicking one leg up in a mockery of Hollywood movies. “I agree.”





	One Evening in Oxford

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little snippet that came to me while walking this morning, when I realised I'd never written anything with Shirley...
> 
> Also sorry for the title, which doesn't say much or have much relation to the fic. Titles are the bane of my existence. Closely followed by blurbs.

“This is ridiculous,” Morse says, uncomfortably aware of Trewlove's slim waist between his hands. Whatever her dress is made of, its soft and smooth, and her body heat travels right through it. He's slumped against a scratchy, Cotswold stone wall, just enough to put them on a level with the heels she's wearing. She stands between his legs, pressed close. They're keeping watch for a drug sting, and while its unlikely any of the rumbled will try to run this way – too open – the powers that be still didn't want the police presence to be too obvious. Hence the charade.

“That a girl like me would be seen with a guy like you?” she asks with a twinkle, flicking one leg up in a mockery of Hollywood movies. “I agree.”

“No, that-” movement makes his hands grip a little tighter. Its just a cat, darting from one bush to another, and he relaxes. “That you're only CID when we need someone to play the girlfriend. Or wife.”

She turns her head, and he tucks her hair behind her ear to give him a better view over her shoulder, lightly sweeping the palm down and coming to rest just below her shoulder blade. She ducks slightly and whispers in his ear playfully, “you’re right. You, Fancy - so many pretty guys down at the station that could stick on a wig and-”

He huffs. “I’m being serious.”

He can feel her sigh; a little breath that warms his skin, and she drops the flirty tone. “I know.”

“How do you stand it?”

He moves his hand up to cradle her head. She pulls back just slightly, two lovers gazing into each other's eyes. “I know it’ll get better.”

“You do?”

Her smile is dimpled, and she keeps her voice low like they're exchanging sweet nothings. “Were there any women detectives, or even police officers, when you started?” He shakes his head. “And now there’s me, showing everyone that a woman can be capable.” He snorts, ducking his head. She lifts it back up with a fingertip. “What?”

He draws her close again. “You’re a bit more than capable,” he mumbles into her throat. “Better than half the guys in the office. More than half.”

He feels her hand in his hair, and while it probably passes for anyone watching, its more of a motherly stroke than a caress. “Thanks.”

“Its the truth.”

“_Suspects detained, all units stand down,”_ crackles the radio hidden in Trewlove's handbag. She pulls back again, separating completely before taking his hand. He stares down at it.

“Oh, er, thanks, but-”

She laughs, and squeezes once. “No, I know, don’t worry!” She pulls him off the wall and into a steady amble, swinging their joined hands. “I’ve got my eye on George, if you must know.”

“Fancy?” He raises his eyebrows with a sideways look. “All about the 'pretty' ones with you is it?” he teases, squeezing her hand in return.

She nods decisively, smirking. “As long as they’re not prettier than me.”

Morse snorts, and lets her lead them down a short-cut back to the station. “Good job. It'd be a tough bar, that.”


End file.
